Identity
by Lapis Love
Summary: He thought he was content in who he was. A vampire with a reputation that was a mile long with questionable humanity. But what if who who he was back in 1864 was implanted in his current day vampire form? Damon with manners, sensibility, perhaps even shy with the ladies? Impossible to imagine, but a lesson on what happens when you cross a Bennett.
1. Prologue

**A/N: I take almost two weeks off from writing and a thing happens. I'm probably going to add more to this later but I'm too tired right now. Enjoy.**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith/CW Network. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p><em>Two a.m. <em>was the hour his bedroom door exploded open and Damon ripped inside. He tore off his leather jacket and swung it haphazardly behind him. His shirt soon followed. Damon fumbled with his belt, button, fly and dropped his pants to his ankles and kicked them and his boots off.

Tonight like many nights in the past had ended in utter disaster. Kind of. Well, maybe. _Fuck!_ He thrust a hand through his midnight hair begging his brain to slow down and let him think only one thought at a time. For someone who could move at the speed of sound, everything was moving far too quickly for him to process.

A silver coin flipping, rotating in the air passed through his thoughts which immediately caused Damon to pierce his stunning blue eyes closed. Next came his careful but hurried footsteps over dead grass, twigs, brown leaves, up a pair of rickety steps, down another pair of wobbly wooden stairs, darkness. Crouched. Hidden. Waiting. He didn't even hear the unneeded breath rushing out of his nostrils.

His ears had twitched at the sound of two pairs of feet moving into the house headed where he hid himself. He smelled the younger witch first, able to recognize that distinctive scent from a mile away. She passed right by him and didn't even notice. Never once broke stride.

The older witch followed at a slower pace, actually paused as if she heard a sound, with her distracted, Damon pounced.

His teeth must have flashed like a bolt of lightning or maybe that's how it felt to him. He tore into his wrist, wrapped his other arm around the older witch, and stuffed her mouth. Blood gushed and when he figured enough of his essence had slithered down into her belly, he twisted her neck.

Damon shook his head furiously, muttered, and entered his bathroom.

He forewent looking at himself in the mirror. He couldn't. The action required too much weight and it was a burden he couldn't carry. Besides, mirrors reflected a perception of reality but could it really be reliable? He wasn't in the best of moods to find that out.

Wrenching the faucet on full blast, Damon pulled his daylight ring off, dropped it on the corner of the sink and proceeded to scrub his hands.

Steam rose and caused condensation to build. It raced up the cool surface of the mirror giving it a frosted appearance, skewering the image.

That's when Damon decided to look.

He didn't understand why he felt…panic or as close to panic as he had ever felt before rise up within him. Damon knew what desperation tasted like. Acrid. Bitter. He knew the flavor of disappointment. Had intimate knowledge of lust. Knew the intricacies the relief of inhumanity provided. But this, _this _whatever this was plaguing him he hadn't been acquainted with possibly since returning home after deserting from the Confederate Army knowing he'd have to face his father.

When Damon finally stopped scrubbing his hands he noticed his cuticles were bleeding. He snatched a towel and dried the blood, soap, and water away. He placed his daylight ring back on.

It was over. Elena was safe. Bonnie was…safe—well she was alive. Abby…

Damon's Adam's apple bobbed but he told himself not to even go there. _Don't open that door, and don't you fucking dare feel bad for what you did. You did it for Elena. There is no limit; there is no line you wouldn't cross to make sure her heart continued to beat in her chest. _

Those were his thoughts and as he repeated them, that panicky feeling began to recede like a case of ingestion being cured by an antacid tablet. Damon told Stefan eons ago, it seemed, that he had no problems being the bad guy. He would be the one to protect Elena and so far he was delivering on that front. However, his job would be so much easier if Elena didn't drop herself into situations turning her life into a bargaining chip.

Tonight could have been avoided had she kept her damn mouth shut, and not gone with Elijah and spilled the beans about Esther's plan. Why was it so fucking hard for her to just view someone as an enemy and keep them there?

_Then if she did that where would that leave you?_ His smug mind questioned.

_Not the point, _Damon countered and turned off the light in his bathroom.

As Damon reentered his bedroom he stepped over his pile of clothes, pulled back the duvet, and climbed into bed.

The second his head hit the pillow for the first time in decades he wanted sleep to come immediately. A dreamless unconsciousness to whisk him into an endless black pit of nothing. Not to be had. The minute he laid supine on the bed his ears replayed the sound of Bonnie's horrific scream. Blood curdling. Broken. The type that made his own soul shriek.

Damon bit down on the inside of his cheek until the coppery taste of his blood filled his mouth.

She was never going to forgive him. Part of that inherent knowledge made Damon flip over in bed on his side, knots forming in his empty stomach. The other part of him didn't give a shit. They weren't friends. He didn't care about her and she sure as shit didn't care about him. She only tolerated him for Elena's sake. Only saved his worthless ass for Elena and Stefan's sake. Not because she would be sad if he kicked the bucket or was burnt to a crisp.

But lately…

No, Damon cancelled those thoughts. Yes, he may have hurt her mother, but whatever Abby decided once it was explained to her what was going on would be on her hands, not his.

That is what Damon told himself to separate from his conscience, or whatever part of his conscience remained.

In many ways he was a victim too. He was a victim of love. Falling in love with unobtainable women who he had jumped through hoops for, bled for, killed for, inspired him to go through great and drastic lengths just for five minutes of their time. A smile. A brush of her fingers along his cheek.

What was he saying? Bullshit. The only currency Damon knew how to dabble in habitually.

A knock sounded on his door.

"Go away."

"Damon," Stefan ignored the grunted request and eased into his brother's darkened room.

"What about go and away do you not understand?"

"What happened tonight…"

"Stefan," the way he pronounced his brother's name like the threat that it was echoed through the room.

The younger Salvatore knew he was pushing, taking a risk but he had thoughts he needed to share, get off his chest, purge. What happened tonight had been a total deviation of the pl—er agreement he and Damon had come to. Stefan could say he was surprised but he wasn't. He could even shamefully admit to being relieved, but he wouldn't. To say those things aloud even while saying it in a dulcet tone with only his brother still would have been too loud and someone could overhear.

Bowing his head, Stefan backed out of the room, closing the door softly after his retreat.

Damon released the breath he had been holding. He didn't want to hear Stefan preach, didn't want to feel the prick of his condemnation. He didn't even want to look at his brother that in doing what he did, had tried to protect through his actions.

Closing his eyes, Damon willed himself to fall asleep.

He should have stayed awake.

_The sun was on his face. Green grass bent under his feet. In the distance he could hear the sound of children horse playing. The smell of laundered clothes filled his nostrils as well as chimney smoke. Looking down at himself he was dressed in a white shirt, vest, trousers, and his riding boots. That was a bit galling to see._

_When he faced forward after taking in his surroundings, his stomach dropped to his toes. Damon stood before his childhood home, the Salvatore planation before it was burned down to the foundation._

_Damon took a step forward. It wasn't often he dreamt of his childhood home. He had worked overtime to abolish memories of the place where he had been born, matriculated, a place he suppressed because some of his best and worst memories as a human were intermixed under that thatched roof._

_As he drew closer he saw that there was a woman sitting on the wraparound porch in a rocking chair, a bowl perched on her lap, a pea pod in her hand. Damon didn't recognize her. Based off her clothing: rust brown muslin dress, white apron, head scarf, enshrined on wrinkled chestnut skin she was a slave._

_"No need in being shy. This your home," she spoke without lifting her eyes from her task._

_Damon wandered closer. "What am I doing here?"_

_She smiled, eyes still not on him. "Why you think you here?"_

_He shrugged. "I don't know. But I do know I'm dreaming. I haven't been to this place in centuries. I make it a point not to even dream about it."_

_"Well you dreamin' bout it now," the woman finally met his gaze. Her eyes burned emerald._

_Damon gulped for some strange reason because he knew those eyes. Looked into those eyes weekly. Apprehension filled him._

_"You did a bad thing," she admonished him._

_"I had my reasons," Damon defended his actions._

_"Reasons only matter to the one givin' the excuse, not to the one who hurt. You a foolish _boy_, Damon Salvatore."_

_"Look lady…"_

_She rose then, the bowl falling to the porch but not smashing to pieces, fire seemed to shoot from her eyes. "No, you look! You took another one. Another of my sisters. You think you know pain. You think you know sufferin', but you don't. What it take for you to learn you can't take from someone and not expect nothin' to be done to you in return? I know just the thing for you, boy."_

Oh, shit wake up, Damon!

_For one wild moment Damon thought threating her with being lynched for addressing him, a white man as boy might snatch some of the bravado out of her, but he knew better than to even play that card. He was dealing with a Bennett. Whether this dream was in fact a dream, a manifestation of his seemingly guilty conscience, or his consciousness had been summoned here he was powerless. She was smart to bring him back to the era where—he had rights but at the same time operated under his father's obscene demands, and of course had zero vampire powers. She did this to send a message, paint a picture._

_"I didn't want to hurt her," Damon decided to win some points by pleading his case. "If I hadn't done what I did then the girl I love would be dead,_ or_ her best friend who I'm guessing is your descendant wouldn't be alive."_

_The woman shook her head and walked down the steps, crossed over the grassy knoll and stood in front of Damon._

_"Stop hiding behind love, Damon when you have no concept of what that means. But you will. I promise you, you will."_

_Typically when someone proclaimed to someone they would learn what the true meaning of love was they meant it as a good thing. However, in this case, it sounded too much like a threat. A promise of coming pain and retribution._

_Fucking fantastic._

_She started saying something but Damon couldn't make heads or tails of what she was saying, and not before long he couldn't hear what she was saying, either. He could only feel. Feel himself being pushed backwards, carted away by a force he couldn't see nor fight against._

_In any case he was glad to go. Happy to disappear off to nice and greener pastures where hopefully the next female he'd come across would be the sort to open her legs, no questions asked, and allowed him to sink his fangs anywhere he damn well pleased. Even while thinking along those lines a surge of distaste rose up within him._

_Strange._

His eyes fluttered opened and Damon sprang up in bed. He surveyed his surroundings, frowned. This room was…it was…he couldn't exactly find the word to describe it.

Clearing his throat he called out. "Hello?"

No reply came.

Glancing down at himself, horror filled him because he was completely nude, but then he minutely relaxed having arrived at the only conclusion to be drawn from this.

He was at a brothel. But yet the stench of sex, rosewater, perfume they were all absent in the air. And looking around the room once more Damon saw things he had never seen before, which concerned him but intrigued him. But his memories of what he had been doing were muddled to say the least. Just exactly how much did he have to drink?

Wrapping and securing the sheet around his body, Damon hopped out of bed unsure of where his clothes were. He saw a pile of black garments on the floor and he assumed they belonged to him.

Damon picked up the pants, examined them and the material. They were coarse but finely made but the fabric itself was unusual. He stepped into them and the fit was nice, he couldn't complain about that, but how to close the flap? There was a metal contraption where his groin was and it looked, well perilous. He learned after some trial and error that in order to close his trousers he needed to pull the little metal thing up. He fashioned the button and then grabbed the shirt and tossed it on.

The fit was extremely tight and where were the rest of his sleeves? He couldn't go out in public with his arms bare like this. He had nice arms though.

Damon didn't know what to make of any of this. Where was he? Why were his clothes so strange? Had he traveled to a foreign country? He had always wanted to go visit places he read about in books but his father had forbidden it.

His eyes rolled. There was one dullard he certainly didn't want to spare a single thought to.

At that moment the bedroom door opened and Stefan walked in. Damon, after taking one look at his brother's apparel realizing they were dressed similarly, the tension he felt earlier melted but then came back full force as well. But maybe he could explain what was going on.

"Good morrow, Stefan."

Stefan's eyebrows mashed together. "Good morrow? Um, hey."

Damon laughed, "Being informal, I see. I think I'm having a bit of a troubling morning. I don't remember anything from last night. Now you can either tell me why I'm feeling so remiss or maybe a ride on Urian might help."

If Stefan wasn't sure before he was doubly positive now. Damon was a fucking lunatic. Urian had been his horse back when they were kids.

"Damon…Urian died in 1863. You know that."

The vampire in question whirled around, surprised. "What?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" the blue-eyed vampire laid a hand on his chest. "What's wrong with you? You're telling me a horse I rode not two days ago is dead."

"Damon, it's fucking 2012."

Damon blinked. Stefan blinked. Just what was going on?

"That can't be," the elder brother muttered in disbelief. "Explain to me what's going on, _Stefan_."

TBC

**A/N: The ending might be confusing, no I know it's confusing, but I had this crazy idea. Instead of implanting Human Damon into current time, why don't we take his personality if you will and incorporate that into Vampire Damon. See what happens. Kind of like a Human-Vampire Damon hybrid. Is his memory from 1863 til 2012 gone? Temporarily suppressed? If I continue guess we'll see. I'm not sure about this, but if you guys are interested let me know. Still on hiatus but I just needed to get this out. Thanks for reading. **


	2. Winter Is Coming

**A/N: Hey, thank you to everyone who reviewed, added to your faves, followed! You guys are the absolute best in supporting me and my writing. Enjoy the latest.**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith/CW Network. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p>Purge it with fire. That's what they would say. How could she do that when she was filled with ice? Bonnie expected the world to be different but it was disappointingly the same. The same people remained inside their homes munching away on popcorn while mindlessly watching television while her world, the tiny little world she had cultivated was ripped into shreds as she rushed her mother inside Caroline's home.<p>

She wanted to hide. And she had hidden. She couldn't face Elena because if she saw her, Bonnie wasn't sure she could remain civil, and not turn violent against her best friend.

"_She loves you so much…but she's always the one who ends up getting hurt…" _

Truer words had never been spoken in Bonnie's estimation. Elena had said nothing for a while and during that brief intermission, Bonnie inhaled a deep breath and finally stepped out of her hiding spot.

Brown eyes shifted in her direction. The expression on Elena's face, the young witch had seen a thousand times before. Regret. Guilt. Sadness. Shame. They did nothing for her now.

Elena unthinkingly took a step forward, but Caroline's arm shot out barring the way. Hurt was the next emotion to flutter over the doppelganger's face.

Hot tears crested and rolled down Bonnie's bronze cheeks. Her hands vibrated, trembled, and she balled them into fists. Heat infused in her veins and little knickknacks around the Forbes' house rattled.

"I don't want you here, Elena," Bonnie's voice didn't sound like her own. Her words sounded callous and that had been the intent.

"Bonnie, _please _you know I never meant for anyone to get hurt."

"You have a funny way of showing your intentions by leaving with one of the very people we were trying to kill. What were you thinking, Elena? Let me answer that for you. You weren't!"

"I…" Elena stuttered horribly for five seconds. "How is…will she turn?"

"I don't know. She hasn't woken up yet. So why don't you go and cry on Stefan or Damon's shoulders. You're all that matters to them anyways, and when you really think about it, they're all _you _care about."

Stunned—an emotion shared by both Caroline and Elena.

Bonnie said nothing else as she turned and headed back inside Caroline's bedroom.

Nothing changed once morning came. However, everything _had _changed. Her naiveté had been eradicated. Her mother transitioned and she was running through a tight path with a lot of forks in the road.

She spent the weekend at Abby's doing what she could to be supportive. Bonnie had to bury her anger because if she showed it that could trigger Abby who was already teetering on her own precipice wondering if she made the right decision. The last thing she wanted to do was pull the pin on a potential grenade. For her mother she had to keep her cool.

But it was so hard to smile, to be perky and upbeat because it was a lie. A minstrel show of sorts in that she paraded around in one face which made a mockery of her true feelings.

Caroline had shown up to teach Abby the ropes. Bonnie had offered to stay out of the way. She may not be saying with her mouth what was boiling on her insides, she knew she was broadcasting it in other ways. Mainly little hiccups with her magic.

She felt guilty for sentencing her mother, a woman she barely remembered or even knew to this fate by coming to her for help. She should have seen this coming. It's happened so many times Bonnie didn't know why this would be any different. Witches and warlocks and especially those who shared her skin pigmentation had a zero survival rate once aligning themselves with vampires. Bonnie had tried to reason their deaths away by saying they deserved their fate because they sided with the "bad" vampires, the evildoers and had tried to hurt her friends. But here she was on the "good" side, and someone she didn't exactly like or even trust beyond his willingness to protect Elena betrayed her far worse than any enemy she had ever encountered up to this point.

Bonnie wanted to say she was surprised, but really she had been anticipating this moment. She knew a time would come where a decision between saving her or saving Elena would present itself and she would lose. And that's why she exhausted herself to do what she could so things would never get to that point.

The good it did.

It wasn't just the desire to be useful or even to be seen equal. It was a fight to stay in the fight. She was a witch—yes, but she hadn't been protecting the balance. Bonnie had deemed the balance as a hindrance to her goal, her endgame and that's why she constantly shifted it. But the thing was it wasn't explicitly by her choice. Not all of the time. She had to go around established rules because things refused to stop happening that needed her power, her birthright to fix. Bonnie was the seamstress constantly making alterations for customers who would never be satisfied by her work, mastery of skill, or attention to detail. And quite simply Bonnie was ready to close shop.

Was she angry at Damon, Stefan, and Elena? No doubt about it she was pissed! Did she want the Salvatore's and Originals dead? With a burning passion.

Yet killing them wouldn't return Abby to her human state. Killing them wouldn't increase her value in the eyes of those she thought had her back. Killing them would be a temporary solution to a permanent problem.

The Originals were the product of their mother's desperation to save her children, which created monsters as a side effect. Now Esther wanted to undo what never should have been done in the first place, and Bonnie at the moment could really care less. She was done with that bullshit.

The Originals had been around for a thousand years, and in that thousand years the spirits schemed to kill them and every single last one of their plots failed. The definition of insanity was repeating the same action while expecting a different result. When would they learn and give it a rest and stop taking their frustrations out on her and her family?

But the feeling going through Bonnie at this precise moment was akin to a broken heart. Yes, Elena could show up at Caroline's saying she was sorry and that she loved her, and could call leaving her messages where her voice became raspier with each call, a sign she was on the verge of tears or had just finished crying. In the past it would have softened Bonnie's heart, but this time around she felt it hardening as if she were developing arteriosclerosis.

That was another thing. In each of Elena's calls after quickly inquiring after her and Abby, the doppelgänger would turn her pleas back to herself reminding Bonnie they were best friends, and that she couldn't sleep so riddled with guilt at her incompetence in just keeping out of something, which led to Abby being turned by the guy obsessed with her.

The obsession was becoming a two way street as far as Bonnie was concerned. She didn't save any of Elena's messages. She deleted each one, feeling another drop of love in her heart geared toward her best friend drying up.

Yet Bonnie remembered something Grams said. Family is in your heart forever and you can never stop loving them. Loving and liking where two separate things, and Bonnie was sure she didn't like her best friend very much at the moment.

Damon and Stefan, if there wasn't a special place in hell for them she'd make one. But that would require timing. Careful planning and execution.

What Bonnie had the most difficult time deciding was what was the bigger betrayal. Elena spilling her guts to Elijah about Esther's plan? Damon and Stefan conspiring to kill her and her mother and Damon actually turning Abby into a vampire, or the witches doing nothing to stop it? In any case, they would feel wrath.

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><p>Abby heard her daughter approaching from the east, and she did her best to slurp the contents of the bag in as much a dignified manner as she could manage. But the thirst was too great, the infantile fiend within her too demanding and hungry for decorum.<p>

Bonnie saw Abby attempt to twist away to hide what she was doing. It made her slow to a stop and walk at a snail's pace toward her, plucking the earbuds out of her ears.

Once the bag was totally empty, Abby crushed it in her pocket, licked her lips clean of any residue, and smiled as convincingly as she could.

They were pretending. Dancing naked around a fire while avoiding real issues. The gulf created by her abandonment of her toddler child, the chasm formed due to now being a vampire.

Saying hello seemed silly and pointless. Inquiring about inner feelings when everything was just one maelstrom of distrust would serve nothing. Abby didn't think Bonnie personally set this whole thing up to punish her, get back at her for leaving when she showed up unannounced on her doorstep. Their initial meeting had been cold, distant. Related strangers meeting for the first time. Only Abby could recall every time Bonnie kicked in her womb, the odd cravings she had during her pregnancy, kissing her tiny, dimpled hands the second she had been born, struggling to breastfeed her daughter who rejected her nipple, and sometimes rejected her coddling preferring to be held by her father or grandmother.

Bonnie, who now some fifteen years later was practically grown, and nothing more than a memory of Abby's regrets and failures as a mother. But she was here now. So full of regret, guilt, remorse, anger, and hatred. Abby wanted to believe everything would be okay, but for the moment she just couldn't see it or even feel it.

Mother and daughter stood side by side facing the garden, the sun peaking over the horizon.

"How was your run?" Abby opened up the dialogue.

"Good. Exactly what I needed. H-how are you feeling?"

"Impatient. Anger fuels a witch's power," Abby said. "And I'm learning it fuels cravings as well."

Bonnie didn't shift or turn away from the scene in front of her. It was easier this way. "Caroline will be back soon and the two of you can hunt."

"Great," the older Bennett retorted dryly.

Bonnie's lips twitched. "I won't lie, Caroline is a lot to handle."

Releasing a sigh, Abby maneuvered until she stood before her daughter. "I don't want you to think I don't appreciate what she's trying to do, trying to help me accept the decision I made, but…she doesn't understand what this is doing to me. She was human when she turned. I was a witch who was getting her power and strength back, and now I'm something else," the whites of her eyes momentarily became inky black.

Remaining stoic, Bonnie folded her arms over her chest. "If you didn't want to be this way then why did you do it?"

"For you, Bonnie."

"I didn't want this for you. I didn't want any of what happened _to _happen."

"I know that."

"No," Bonnie shook her head, ponytail swishing against her neck. "I've gotten a rude awakening in order to see the truth. Part of it being…you think I wanted this to happened, deep down for you leaving me."—Surprise did flash on Abby's face—"I don't blame you for thinking that way, but I'm not that vindictive of a person to wish this on any witch, regardless if she's my mother or a perfect stranger.

"I tell myself I'm better than them because I have my humanity, but…I want the one who did this to you to _suffer_."

A shudder went through Abby because she could literally feel her daughter's hate as if it were her own. "Bonnie…"

"No, I know what you're going to say. That in order to bring about his suffering I run the risk of suffering right along with him. I've seen what engaging in revenge does to people. You lose even if you win. And I'm tired of losing."

"So am I."

Feeling her tears coming, Bonnie straightened her spine and lifted her chin. "Grams lost her life after helping them. You were turned while trying to help them. At some point the cycle has to end."

Abby nodded and then gently took Bonnie by the elbow and directed her to a flower bed. Mother and daughter sat on their knees, the wind blowing occasionally.

"You can make things grow," Abby hitched her chin sending a silent message to Bonnie who easily decoded it.

She leaned forward, cupped her hands around the base of a chrysanthemum and began chanting the words of a nature spell Abby had taught her. The petals bloomed, grew, increased in size, color and vibrancy.

"Or you can make things die."

And Bonnie reversed the spell sucking the organic life out of the flower until it was brown and wilted. Dead.

"Where you go from here, Bonnie isn't a matter of dealing in absolutes, but a matter of evening the score. _Balance. _I can't tell you what to do. You have to take the course you feel is right for you. I just need you to remember that what you put out there comes back, and always has a price. Don't pay the price."

Softy, Bonnie promised, "I'll remember."

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><p>"What's the last thing you remember?"<p>

Damon, distracted, squirmed around on the leather couch in the library, eyes darting to and fro taking in his surroundings, drinking everything in. It was strange that from his current position when he looked at a shelf of books that was some distance away he could read the titles on the spines of the tomes as if he were standing right in front of them. Plus, he could hear what sounded like a deer foraging in the woods, which startled yet fascinated him as well. Already he identified the chirps of three different species of birds. He had never been a bird watcher of any sort so how could he differentiate their sounds?

His sense of smell was off the charts. Every time he inhaled there was sensory overload, but yet his eyes weren't watering. This was terribly confusing and his mind raced with questions. The only comfort he had was his brother who hadn't stopped frowning at him, or analyzing him as if he suffered with some mental aliment. Not to mention he was terribly ravenous and wondered when they might break their fast. Stefan hadn't believed him when he said he had no memory and couldn't explain how he seemingly ended up in, what was the year again? 2012. Lies! How could Stefan be so calm during such a….

"Damon!"

The man in question snapped his gaze to Stefan, "What?" he barked.

Stefan settled on the couch across from his older brother. "I asked, what's the last thing you remember? Did you leave the house after we came home last night?"

"No," Damon confided then thought for a moment trying to piece together his movements. "I remember…we went riding through the strawberry fields in Plankton and afterwards went swimming in the creek. I think we stopped for an early supper at Ma Mosley's house and then went into town."

Stefan sagged against the sofa completely flabbergasted. He remembered that day. It was months before Katherine had showed up, and of course months before Damon had been enlisted in the army. Despite that, it didn't account for why Damon was playing the memory loss game, if this were in fact a game or just his childish way of dealing with turning Abby.

Damon could be a convincing actor when he wanted to be, but even he wasn't that good. Yet Stefan couldn't help but notice the difference in Damon's mannerisms, even his dialect was that of a gentleman raised back in the nineteenth century.

Fuck, maybe he _wasn't_ pretending. If Damon claimed not to have left the house how were his memories from 1864 until now were gone, abolished?

The answer, of course, came swiftly to Stefan. "Hang on for a second," he sped through the house and zipped upstairs to Damon's bedroom and checked every inch of it looking for a symbol of a hex, or a pentagram, or herbs or anything that suggested a witch tampered with his brother's personal effects that were part of some spell.

He came away with nothing. Stefan's first instinct was to phone Bonnie but he couldn't do that now and possibly ever again considering what he and Damon had done less than twenty-four hours ago. He couldn't call Elena knowing she wouldn't be on speaking terms with them either. He damn sure wasn't going to Klaus nor any of the other Originals for answers because hey they tried to kill them many times over. Alaric, the man's anger and resentment toward him, Damon, vampires in general was becoming a real canker sore, and this was out of his scope of expertise he could only assume.

Returning to the library, Stefan found Damon hovering in a corner looking—he tilted his head. Was that fear?

"What?" Stefan came closer.

Damon pressed his back deeper into the wall. "You moved so fast."

Oh, right, Stefan smacked his forehead. He'd have to explain about being a vampire. Inwardly groaning at the amount of information he'd have to explain, Stefan held up a finger and left the room once more this time leaving at human speed. He appeared a minute later with a blood bag and a crystal tumbler.

Damon focused intently on the blood bag, at the hypnotic vermillion fluid and questioned why his gums were itching, and why a riot was happening in his guts but also in his head urging him to attack.

He blinked furiously and stared helplessly at Stefan. "What's going on with me, with _us, _Stefan? You moved…unlike anything I've ever encountered and now you hold some libation in your hand that's…" he licked his lips.

Stefan punctured a hole in the bag and poured the blood into the glass. "This is our sustenance now, Damon."

"We're demons?"

Stefan glanced at his brother quickly. "In a manner of speaking. We've done horrible, unforgivable things to people because of what we are, and for what I'm pouring into this glass. It's blood. We're vampires."

Damon stilled, a bolt of fear convalescing through him but then he chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. "You jest with me, Stefan. I've never heard the term before. We, well more so _you,_ are Christian. Don't tell me you've renounced the faith, done away with sainthood and have taken up a pagan religion though I wouldn't blame you. Father will tan your hide, though!"

Once the bag was empty, Stefan tossed it on a table and then held the glass out to his brother. "If you don't believe me then I dare you to drink this and not gag."

"Stefan," Damon whined pitiably. "I want no part of this game any longer."

"This isn't a game, brother. You and I were turned into monsters who feed on humans for their blood. See," Stefan broke out his vamp face to show further proof he wasn't full of bullshit.

Damon's jaw crashed to the floor. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so flippant when it came to religion. He could certainly use a saint or angel of mercy right about now.

Before Stefan could say anything else, he heard the front door open and close. From the scent of perfume that began to permeate the air, their visitor was female and one he hadn't anticipated to see.

"Am I hearing things," Damon said, "or did someone just enter the house? Should I be able to hear…" he blinked, "her heart beat?"

"Someone is here and I need you to drink this and stay put," Stefan sat the glass on a nearby table and got missing.

Damon stared at it from across the room. Half his mind on gulping down the contents while also warring with his gag reflex when he thought about consuming human blood; and the other half focused on listening to his brother greet their guest.

"No," he shook his head, folded his arms over his chest and paced back and forth.

He wouldn't do it. Humans didn't drink blood. That was wrong, amoral, fucking sick to pardon his language. How could Stefan allow himself to come to such a state? Why would he want him to follow?

His eyes flicked to the glass and his mouth watered. "No, Damon. You're not an animal."

But yet, the smell, the color of it was so very appealing it was driving him wild with curiosity. Perhaps a small sip and no more. Couldn't hurt, right?

The next time he climbed out of his thoughts the glass was already in his hand. Damon was naturally shocked that he moved without being consciously aware of moving. He lifted the glass, puckered his lips, wrapped them around the rim, tipped, and…

He devoured the blood and nearly licked the glass clean.

Hands shaking after realizing what he had done, the tumbler fell out of his grasp and shattered on the carpet.

A harmony of bliss, repulsion, confusion, joy, and horror filled him because in that moment, Damon knew he would _kill _to taste that again.

Two seconds later a woman entered the library. He didn't even pause to get a good look at her. Her warmth drew him in, the sound of her heart beating was a beacon to lure him closer, and he flew at her.

She screamed.

Chapter end.

**A/N: What did we think? Oh in case any were curious if I might be following the rest of S3 story line I won't since I've covered those in my other stories, and I'm fresh out of ideas on how to use what was canon and adding my own spin to it. Plus it was all stupid anyways, what happened on the show, or perhaps I should say was uninspiring, no stupid is best, lol. Thank you guys for reading!**


	3. Crosshairs

**A/N: Thank you, loves for the reviews for last chapter. Enjoy this next chapter. Oh and before I forget Merry Christmas! **

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith/CW Network. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

><p>Coming here was habit, compulsion. When the world got too crazy, when the stars, sun, and moon fell out of alignment, Elena came here. When she needed to vent, when she needed love, validation, when she just<em> needed<em>…this was the place she sought refuge at, although that place should have been her own house.

In finding shelter here, Katherine's clone hadn't realized she began to isolate those who had represented home. Stefan and Damon Salvatore replaced the memory of her dead adoptive parents, her brother, her best friends, even her morals at times. She loved them in different ways, and the love they held for her had turned into something obsessive and distorted.

Yet, she wanted to look into their eyes and see if anything reflected back at her. Remorse, guilt, shame. Would they allow her to see that?

Bonnie wasn't talking to her and she wanted her best friend back. It shouldn't have taken Abby being turned for Elena to realize just how much faith she placed into the wrong damn people. Her soft heart was the harbinger death for others, and she needed to do this. Needed to sever ties with the Salvatore's if she had any hope in reclaiming the person she used to be. Of proving to her friends that she wasn't so far stuck up Stefan and Damon's asses not to see what monsters they truly were.

As soon as Elena walked through the door she was met by Stefan. His jaw was set, his gait—stern, his eyes—dauntless. Whenever she stood in his presence there was a corresponding flutter. The feeling was still there, and Elena hated herself for still…being attracted to him even after _everything _he had done and especially in her name.

"I need to talk to you," Elena began.

"Now isn't a good time."

"I don't care, Stefan. What you and Damon did last night…how could you…"

"I _said_," Stefan snapped, "now isn't a good time. I'm not in the mood to hear a lecture, and whatever you have to say, I can promise you will go in one ear and leave right out the other. And if last night didn't send a message to you we're not good to be around then that makes you stupid as fuck."

Elena blinked against Stefan's coldness. She knew he was still fighting the impulse to let his humanity come roaring back in, but she had expected to see a little sorrow. She had hoped to be greeted by the Stefan who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Not this unfeeling bastard who didn't care he hurt her and Bonnie who saved his life more than once.

Squaring her shoulders, Elena side stepped him. Stefan might not be willing to listen to what she had to say, but Damon would. He was probably still patting himself on the back for his perceived heroic deeds.

"Where the hell are you going?" Stefan followed after her.

Elena sealed her lips and decided to check the library first. If he wasn't there then she'd head up to his room.

"Elena!"

"Leave me alone, Stefan," she sailed into the library.

Before she could register anything, a shadow was barreling towards her.

Elena screamed instinctually and thrust herself backwards, crashing into the wall. Sharp teeth grazed her skin right in the area where her shoulder and neck connected. Her screams became deafening.

A gust of wind made her long hair fly into her face, and when she pushed it aside, Elena saw Stefan restraining a completely vamped out Damon.

"What the hell?" she breathed shakily. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Damon saw her mouth moving but he couldn't hear her words as his concentration resided on the angry red welts appearing where he almost bit her. Her blood, how he was capable of smelling it when technically he hadn't spilled a drop of it worried yet fascinated Damon. He was actually surprised Stefan was restraining him and wasn't shaking with the effort of holding him back.

"I just need a taste," Damon heard himself say in a voice he barely recognized as his own.

He snapped his jaws together like a shark taking a chomp out of a nice juicy steak.

Stefan looked at the doppelganger over his shoulder while fighting his brother, locking Damon's arms behind his back. "Elena, you need to go."

"What's wrong with him? Why did he attack me? Did Klaus compel him?"

He very well could have as far as Stefan was concerned. Klaus had the ability to compel vampires. He could have easily slipped inside of the manor and compelled Damon to behave like his human counterpart, but why would he? Klaus' compulsions usually led to something deadly, not a practical joke.

His hold on Damon was slipping the more he struggled to free himself from Stefan's bruising grip.

"Get the hell out of here, Elena!"

She gasped at the vehemence in Stefan's voice.

Her jaw quivered but she straightened her spine and fled from the room. She screamed again when Elena heard a loud crash right behind her as if someone had just been thrown into the wall.

An inhuman growl turned her ghost white. That feeling of being chased tripled and Elena barely had time to close the front door after hastily running for her life.

Damon saw nothing beyond the haze of wanting to cure the ravenous hunger shredding his stomach into ribbons. Her running from him sparked a disturbing lust to pursue, chase, and conquer. _Kill. _He nearly broke the front door off its hinges in his haste to get to her. The vampire raced outside, and then roared as his skin began sizzling.

He jumped back into the shadows grossly mesmerized at the boils that had formed on his arms, hands, and anywhere else the sun had touched. Blinking against the sight, Damon wanted to cry because of the pain, but also because his prey was putting miles between them.

Stefan slowly sauntered out on the veranda holding up Damon's daylight ring. "Sunlight kills our kind. These rings protect us from that fate. I'm keeping this until I know what the hell is going on with you. Get back in the house."

The bloodlust haze slowly faded from Damon's mind, and he could think like a man who walked on two legs as opposed to four. He had come so frighteningly close to…killing that girl. And for what? To drink her blood? Damon was appalled.

Yes, for now it was best he stay indoors until he understood perfectly what circle of hell he had been sentenced to.

* * *

><p>Despite attending every one of her classes and avoiding Elena's garnet doe-eyed stare, Bonnie felt as if her day hadn't been productive at all. Once coming home she stripped, took a shower, and now she lied flat on her back in bed staring aimlessly up at the ceiling.<p>

For two seconds she had felt empowered. Like she could conquer her enemies, outsmart them, and record her exploits in her very own grimoire. The feeling dissipated almost as soon as she drove past the 'Welcome to Mystic Falls' sign, and those memories she made with Abby who imparted some long overdue advice faded into the cacophony of her contemplations.

Bonnie was no closer to figuring out what she wanted to do or how to execute it. Leave well enough alone, or figure out a way to destroy those who took from her. And to do so in a way that would leave her hands sparkling clean and her conscience totally clear.

She had nothing to build on besides her feelings, and they were on a constant yo-yo.

Blowing out a breath, Bonnie rolled off her bed and headed to her closet. When she returned home that Sunday, she immediately began working on a list. A compilation of her enemies names including their strengths and their weakness. Written on the wall in permanent marker were the names of each Original, the Salvatore's and, herself. No one needed to tell Bonnie she could be her biggest enemy, and if she were turning over a new leaf then she needed to assassinate her old character.

Some of the strengths listed were repeated as well as weaknesses, and apart from two they all shared a common thread.

"Elena," Bonnie murmured and stared at her…stared at the doppelganger's name that was circled with a bright red Sharpie.

The Salvatore's loved her. Elijah admired her. Klaus needed her to make hybrids. Rebekah wanted to gut her. Esther used her ancestor to create vampires, and used Elena's blood to bind her children's lives; and she—Bonnie had been ready to throw her life away to protect her.

The only two people who had no use for Elena were Kol and Finn. Bonnie wasn't going to make an exception for either one of them. She couldn't afford to.

The only central role she ever starred in was being the one who risked everything to save the day. To whom much is given, much is required, however Bonnie didn't think what she had evened out what had been required of her from her friends and from those marked as her enemies.

Bennett witches were special and powerful. Unique. But they seemingly lived miserable lives. And for what? To gain what? Because all Bonnie was inheriting was a lifetime of being taken for granted and forced into servitude, and that was something she very much wanted to bring to an abrupt end.

"Bonnie! Come eat!"

She jerked at the sound of her father's voice unaware he had been home and cooked or brought home takeout.

Turning out the light in her closet, Bonnie made her way to the kitchen where her dad, Rudy Hopkins sat two plates filled with piping hot broccoli and rice bake on the table.

"I didn't know you were home," Bonnie pulled out a wooden chair and had a seat.

Rudy Hopkins glanced briefly at his only child taking in the fact her hair was up in a ponytail, she wasn't wearing a stitch of makeup, and her navy blue tee was several sizes too big.

"I didn't expect to be," Rudy answered and placed a tall glass of ice water on the coaster next to Bonnie's place mat. He sat down. "A few of my appointments cancelled. How was school?"

Bonnie shrugged, picked up her fork, and pushed her food around. "Fine."

Rudy nodded absent-mindedly. His cell vibrated and he quickly scooped it up to check his email. "Have you been doing anything besides going to school? You're still a cheerleader, right?"

Blood thumped in Bonnie's ears. She had always had an awkward relationship with her father that had nothing to do with going through puberty. His love was something that was implied, his attention was always on his career and little else. Like her mother, Rudy was a stranger to her and he shouldn't be considering they lived together. However, due to her associations, Bonnie spent most of her time being glad her dad wasn't around. Yet, it would have been nice to at least feel his presence in the house during those times when she felt terribly alone.

There were just moments were a daughter needed her father.

"Dad, I quit the squad after Grams died," Bonnie informed softly.

He paused in scrolling through his phone and stared at his daughter taking in her sullen and moody expression. Rudy's lips tightened but he didn't comment. "Are you involved in any other activities? Ones I hope have nothing to do with that garbage your grandmother was trying to teach you."

The bulb in the overhead light above the table brightened and then dimmed. Bonnie cooled her horses.

_Yes, I'm involved in a lot of activities. All of which entail reuniting with my estranged mother, the woman you knocked up, getting her turned into a vampire in the process, and of course can't forget about facing death every single time I step out the door._

Again, Bonnie shrugged her shoulders. "Other than volunteering here and there, I don't get into much."

The young witch observed as her father's busy little thumbs moved briskly typing a response to something he found far more important than actually having an engaging conversation with his offspring.

_Why is it so hard for you to pay attention to me? I go through so much shit and you don't even know the half of it. At least pretend to care. _

"What about you, _dad_?" there was a definite edge to her voice when she called Rudy by his title. Bonnie forked broccoli, melted cheese, and gluten-free rice into her mouth. "What have you been up to?"

"Hang on a second. I need to send this email to my supervisor."

Bonnie sighed heavily. Her head dropped but then she side-eyed him. "Dad, I found my mother."

"Mm-hmm."

"She's a vampire now."

"Give me one more second, honey."

"And I think I'm a republican."

"Yeah," Rudy answered his vibrating phone. "Hey, I was just sending you the attachment."

Collecting her plate and glass of water, Bonnie stood from the table and without saying another word waltzed off to her bedroom.

Door closed and locked, the young witch booted up her laptop and stared doing a search for occult professors at Whitmore. Ordinarily she would have gone to her mother with her questions, and Bonnie would get to Abby when she could after her mother got over the infancy stage of being a vampire. Her knowledge may be a little rusty bearing in mind she hadn't really practiced magic in the last fifteen years. And who knew what her regime was like before she desiccated Mikael.

Besides, Bonnie was after someone who knew _ancient _magic. The magic in her grimoires didn't pre-date Klaus and only went as far back as the Civil War era.

Fingers moving just as briskly as her father's had done, Bonnie typed keywords into the university's catalog.

Three professors popped up. Bonnie read their bios, ruled out two, and printed off the information of the one she felt could help her the most.

This Friday she'd take a 'personal day' from school to speak with Dr. Markos Vlahos, assistant Dean of Comparative Religions and Occult Studies.

A knock at her door caused Bonnie to jump, "Yes!" she yelled.

"Bonnie…you just left the table…I'm sorry about taking that call but it was important."

Rolling her eyes, Bonnie rose from her desk, and entered her bathroom. Leadership reflected attitude, and since her dad picked and chose when he paid attention to her, Bonnie figured she could do the same to him. She couldn't wait to be eighteen, move out, and the both of them could end this farce that they were a family.

* * *

><p>A week after being on house arrest, Stefan figured he had caught Damon up to speed on what was most important, therefore deciding the two of them needed fresh air before they killed each other.<p>

Damon stared at everything with wide-eyed puzzlement. He couldn't believe the marvels of the world his brother had imparted with his words, and then by showing him. He was excited and fearful but no less ready to tackle and learn how to navigate his way forward despite being confused. Nevertheless, Damon felt he truly belonged here. In this era with these people during this time.

As his gaze coasted along the diner, he had been informed that's what it was called, Damon paused at seeing two gentlemen seated together, seated awfully close together, hands touching. When the smaller man leaned forward and pressed his lips to his much larger companion, Damon's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. A very light pink hue colored his cheeks.

Stefan took in his look of thrall, searched for the source, and saw the two dudes in the back kissing.

"Sodomy is legal now?" Damon questioned in amazement but also with an undertone of repugnance.

"Oh my god," Stefan dropped his head on the table. "They don't call it sodomy anymore. They are gay. And don't stare because that's rude."

Damon watched them curiously for a moment. He couldn't say he was outright offended by what he was seeing as he had had doubts about some of the men his father conducted business with. That they harbored hidden desires for those of the same sex. It was just jarring to see it being flaunted so openly, and being taken so casually by those in assembly. If such behavior was allowed was nothing off limits then?

The elder Salvatore lowered his voice conspiratorially, "No one finds that kind of behavior odd?"

"No, Damon and if they do they keep it to themselves. A lot has changed."

"Yes, tell me about it," he sniffed. "Women wearing trousers and doing men's work. Negroes no longer being addressed as such as they are now referred to as African American. Though I find that perplexing as you've explained many have been born on confederate—"

"—American," Stefan corrected.

"—American soil since the Union won the war, and have never stepped foot in Africa. Plus, they are free in every sense of the word, I suppose. If father were alive he'd balk, soil himself, and promptly fall dead. I'd like to see that actually," Damon brightened.

Good lord Stefan forgot how much human Damon loved to talk.

"Now you tell me it's acceptable for men to kiss other men out in society," he wagged his head at the notion.

Stefan straddled the fence if he should laugh or scold his brother. "In some states they can marry. Women as well."

"You mean women marrying other women?"

"Yes, Damon. Whites can marry blacks. Blacks can marry Asians. Whoever the hell wants to get married can marry."

"Great Caesars ghost! Who settles the dowry?"

"Thankfully that tradition has been put to death."

"So, I see," Damon mumbled. "Are there more surprises?"

"Lots. The biggest one being you're a vampire."

"Oh yes that," Damon's lip curled in derision but then he sobered. "I did not mean to lose control of myself back at the manor. The girl…"

"Elena," Stefan supplied and kept careful watch over Damon's face seeing nothing other than his confusion and none of the predilection that usually came over him when talking about the doppelganger. This was definitely one for the books that on the surface Damon appeared to have little romantic interest in Elena. At least at the moment.

How long would this respite last? Stefan couldn't say.

"I know she must be gravely hurt by actions. I should apologize."

Stefan merely shrugged.

Damon's eyebrows pinched together at his brother's lackluster response. "You did not see her face, Stefan. There was deep resentment there. Though I have a feeling her offense stemmed from something far greater than me forcing myself on her person in the heat of the moment. I _must _learn to control myself."

Taking this moment to finish off his beer, Stefan reloaded his glass. "You share a complicated history with her, and just the other night…the two of us…did something unforgiveable," Stefan barely got the words out as his throat tightened, but he ruthlessly shoved the burgeoning emotion aside.

"What did we do?" Damon questioned.

"We betrayed someone who used to consider me a friend, and someone you had promised to protect."

Hearing that made Damon hitch an eyebrow. They had broken their word? "Who? You're being purposely vague, Stefan."

Yes, he was because this was a subject the younger Salvatore didn't want to delve into, and plus the setting was all wrong.

"I don't want to get into it right now, Damon."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to!"

Stefan ran a hand over his face. The old him would have spent the majority of his sleepless night scribbling away in his journal, pacing his room, unable to lift his chin off his chest because the weight of his guilt would do more than suffocate him, it would have buried his conscience alive. However, it was a fight not to let everything back in because Stefan knew the moment he did, he'd feel nothing but pain and disgust at himself. Added to the fact he was no closer to finding out what happened, who mind switched Damon, he had to teach him the ropes in being a vampire, and fill in the blanks of their sordid past. Death would be a vacation at this point.

_Perhaps that's why I'm always spared_, Stefan's face darkened.

"Whatever we did…it's really troubling you," Damon took a sip of his ale—um beer.

Stefan snorted callously. "That's one way of putting it."

Their pretty waitress returned to their table to ask if they needed anything. Stefan told her no while Damon averted his gaze too afraid of what would happen if he stared at her knowing where it may potentially lead.

He could feel it sneaking up on him. Damon licked his lips and hazard a peek at the woman, his eyes immediately dropping to her neck exposed due to her simple hairstyle. He paid little mind to her heaving bosom though her breasts were beautiful—to be sure, but not nearly as enticing as the vein protruding on the side of her neck.

Stefan kicked him sharply under the table snapping Damon out of his reverie. He stood abruptly from the table and excused himself, bowing a little before the waitress who stared back at him strangely.

"We'll take the check," Stefan told the waitress.

She ripped their bill off her steno pad, offered another smile.

Just as soon as Stefan reached in his pocket for his money clip, he caught sight of someone and lowered his head as not to be seen.

Great.

* * *

><p>Damon stepped out of the men's room and slid to the right side of the hallway when he saw a young woman approaching. He discreetly scanned her because he had never seen a pair of trousers so fitted on a woman's body that her curves were no secret. His thoughts were immodest, yet Damon couldn't seem to help himself. He fretted for a moment if he should acknowledge her, or pretend she wasn't there because the scent of her perfumed flesh caused the pestilent fiend within him to rear its head. And matters weren't helped in that her warmth blanketed his senses whilst her beating heart—he soon began to fixate on the sound.<p>

But the moment he looked directly at her face, into her emerald eyes partially floored by their color and brilliance, and saw unmitigated abhorrence there, it stumped but also offended him.

The closer she came the more potent her smell, but there was another aroma wafting from the young woman that made his belly ache with hunger. Her fragrance was simply divine.

_You must remember she is a person. Not food. You will not be a monster. _

Her unfriendly demeanor never changed, but only seem to tighten even more with irritation.

Damon and the girl were almost close to passing one another, and as she sailed right by him he heard her mutter: "Asshole."

He blurted, "Pardon me, I understand you people are free now, but does that give you leave to be rude?"

The blue-eyed vampire had no idea what possessed him to say that, but now that it was out there he saw little reason to apologize. He had done nothing wrong to be called by such a vile word.

The young woman stopped abruptly and spun to face him. Damon didn't think it possible for her green eyes to fill any more with rage, but they did.

Intuition was telling him to engage no further, yet there was this impression that he knew her or knew someone who reminded him of her. Nevertheless, as he studied her Damon felt his stomach drop to his boots. She was indisputably the most _beautiful _woman he had laid eyes on since finding himself in this predicament. Yet most assuredly there was little question on the matter that she hated him.

Why?

"What?" she questioned stonily.

"I-If," he stuttered and inwardly cursed that he did, "if I have offended then I beg your forgiveness."

The anger didn't lift off her face but something else did flutter across it. "If you've offended? Are you fucking kidding me?!" she seethed. "Are you seriously going to stand there and act like you didn't double cross me or hurt me more than anyone ever has in my entire life?"

Brow furrowed, Damon held out his hands, "I know not what you mean."

The girl's eyes narrowed into slits and in two strides she stood toe-to-toe with Damon. He gulped because no woman had ever stood so close or boldly in front of him before.

"You wanna act stupid then that'll give me the perfect excuse to school you with my foot in your ass."

"Bonnie," Stefan appeared behind his brother looking impassive for the most part.

Her fiery green eyes became fixed on the younger Salvatore leaving Damon wondering if she would show him the same kindness.

"_Save _it," Bonnie cut him off icily. She swung her dark gaze between the both of them. "If I have my way, and I plan to, my name will be the last thing either of you speak before I close your eyes. _For. Good_."

That proclamation hung in the tension-filled air for several seconds before Bonnie spun on her heels and marched to the ladies room.

Damon watched her feeling a chill run down his spine.

"Who was that girl, Stefan?"

"Someone you'd do well to avoid." Great now he was beginning to talk like Damon. "She doesn't like—no, that's a gross understatement. She _hates _us and with good reason and is probably plotting our deaths as we speak. And before you ask, no, I'm not kidding. So if you see her, don't approach."

Damon gave his brother a sidelong glance, "First that Elena girl, now this…"

"Bonnie. Bonnie Bennett."

He'd file the name away. "Now we're in a quarrel with Bonnie Bennett. What have we done to earn such spite from such a tiny girl?"

Stefan deadpanned, "You turned her mother into one of us. A vampire."

Damon stared at Stefan in outrage. "Why would I do that? Why would I take the life of a presumably innocent woman?"

Slapping a hand on Damon's shoulder, Stefan led him out of the corridor, through the diner, and outside to the parking lot. "To protect the girl who showed up at the house the other day. Elena."

"I don't understand this, Stefan."

"I know you don't and that's why we need to get out of here and avoid any more confrontations. Bonnie, she has powers. She's a witch."

"A witch!" Damon shouted and earned speculative looks from a few people loitering in the parking lot.

Stefan hissed, "Will you keep your voice down?"

Damon stopped walking, fury lining his glacial irises. "This is not to be born, Stefan. I'm having difficulty in accepting the truth of my present state, this confusing world where things which were outlawed and could get a man killed are now legal. You're telling me that _witches _exist. They are more than the ramblings of the superstitious?"

"Yes! Damon, everything I'm telling you, everything I'm showing you is real. What _you _are is real! Suck up your shock and get over it because we have some real gotdamn problems on our hands. The list of people who wants us dead grows by the day. That girl in there, at the top of the list. She can hurt us without lifting a finger, breaking a sweat, or batting an eyelash. Play time is over. This is your life, my life, and it sucks but we dug our own graves."

Stefan crossed the remaining distance to his car and snatched the door open. Damon loitered for a moment, face completely blank which told Stefan his feelings were hurt. He refused to sigh or even feel bad for keeping it one hundred with his brother who, for all intents and purposes, was vulnerable.

Damon silently opened the passenger side door and dropped his weight in the leather bucket seat.

Stefan followed suit, started the engine, "Oh and one more thing. Don't use the phrase 'you people' when addressing someone of another race. It makes you sound racist."

* * *

><p><em>He carefully walked around pools of blood as it soaked into the carpets, congealed on the hard wood floor. It was splattered on the walls, covered the furnishings. The metallic scent of it permeated everything and made his stomach roll.<em>

_The bodies, he tried to ignore them as he stepped over lifeless bodies of men and women. Eyes open. Mouths frozen in mid-scream if he had to guess, their necks ravished beyond recognition. A macabre display of savagery. _

_Damon followed the trail of blood, one trail of blood in particular which led him to the library. He stopped short at seeing himself holding his arm across the chest of a woman, belly swollen with child._

_Horror filled him and he moved at human speed to stop his other half, the fiend from doing what he knew was coming next. _

"_I needed my brother," he heard himself say to Stefan who stood across from him and next to another man he couldn't place. "Not some bitch still stuck in the gotdamn sixties sprouting hippy shit to me," his hand moved to grab the pregnant woman's neck._

"_Damon," the unidentified man said, "please don't hurt her."_

_He kissed the woman on the temple who stood as rigid as possible, tears falling down her ebony cheeks._

"_How was I supposed to help you deal with something I've been struggling with ever since I turned, Damon?" Stefan argued. "Lexi helped me when I thought I was beyond help, and figured she could reach you the way she reached me." _

_Damon watched himself scoff, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. Every time he tried to take a step forward something would bar him, stop him from moving. _

"_That is who you really are."_

_Damon snapped his gaze to the woman who seemed to have materialized beside him out of thin air. It was the girl who he accosted at the diner and who returned his sentiments. _

"_I am nothing like that," he refuted. _

_She smirked haughtily. "Oh really?"_

"_Well here are the fruits of Lexi's tuition, Stefan." _

_Damon returned his attention and saw himself bite viciously into the pregnant woman amid his brother's protestations. He cold-bloodedly tossed her aside once he was done, licking his lips and fingers in satisfaction. _

"_You were saying?" the girl questioned. _

_When he looked down at himself, he was covered in blood. _

Damon eyes sprang open. He sat upright heaving for a breath. His sheets stuck to his sweaty skin, and he stared at his room expecting the girl to be there and the body of that pregnant woman whose life he so callously ended.

He shook his head refusing to believe that was more than a dream…but it felt so very real.

Chapter end.

**A/N: If any are curious, yes the Markos that Bonnie looked up is the same Markos, leader of the travelers. I'm going to be borrowing certain elements from S4-6 but I won't be following any of those story lines, just certain parts of mythology to help assist in the story that's slowly taking shape in my mind. Don't fret, I have a plan for everyone. *insert diabolical laugh* Thank you all for reading and please don't be shy with any feedback. Love you!**


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